The Dead Girl: Devil's Rock
by HollyinSanest
Summary: The dead girl has allured many with her music. Except there's a secret ingredient to it. Isn't there always? Rated M. OC. Possible chance meeting with a certain dead wife.
1. Prologue

Devil's Rock

Disclaimer: Don't own any of the mentioned characters and any other content featured in this fic. Characters are mostly OC, some not.

Synopsis: The dead girl has allured many with her music. Except there's a secret ingredient to it. Isn't there always? Rated M. OC. Possible chance meeting with a certain dead wife.

AN: Slightly provocative, as this fic contains elements views of religion in general (which I do not condone nor support) . Nor will there be any form of happy endings or unicorns. Proceed at your own risk.

...D.R...

Prologue: Beginning at the End

HELL

Hell was hot. It was close to the Florida heatwave she had experienced on tour once. But with all the gyrating bodies and the flicking of tongues in places best left unmentioned, it was far from being the very same as what people had presumably described. There wasn't much of the torturing nor the suffering that was promised by every orthodoxed religion. It was a damn joke played on humanity. There wasn't any sort of flaying or torture or drowning in hellfire. In fact, Bephomet made the best gumbo. Beelzebub played the fiddle, though his only audience were the flies. Across the River of Souls, Hades was the best at blackjack and generally being a drunk. And Lilith hosted the best orgies.

Hell was different.

Jessie came up with one conclusion that she mostly kept to herself. Hell is what we make of it.

Hell was party for the nonbelievers and innocents but the true fun bits were all for the cruel and the wicked. Those with the twisted sense that had full reign of their little play pen until they got sick and tired of doing the same shit over and over.

Where she currently was standing in, it was the main event. Her big fucking concert stadium to burn.

The Queen of Hell sits the throne. That was the word coming from the whispers around her. The 'Queen' as they had cheered or rather jeered (not all demons or denizens of Hell liked her very much). But the Devil himself had forbid any of them from laying hand on his Queen.

By the way, Jessie wasn't what they call the Queen.

She was just the dead girl.

Jessie the dead girl walked the Courtyard of Heartbreak, ignoring how the vines hanging from the only tree reached out for her shoulders as if begging for a hug. She sidestepped away from them with a mere snort. She was more of the one breaking hearts than the victim. The Tree of Sorrows can go fucking hang someone else.

Walking deeper into the darkest part of the courtyard, Jessie hoped she wasn't about to be devoured by anything taking shelter from the King's wrath. She breathed a sigh of relief when she caught sight of her intended companion and current semi-girlfriend. Their relationship was complicated

The demoness she called 'Dea' partially due to the fact that Jessie never got the hang of her complicated name (Dea it was until hell froze over) was seated by a collection of pressed red roses. Or what looked like red roses until Jessie was close enough to notice that they were human hearts carved and pinned aginst the walls to look like pressed flowers. She wasn't surprised. They were in fact beautiful and smelt neatly of rose water. A change when compared to the lingering odour of brimstone.

'J, what's up?' Dea smirked, pulling yet another wing from a butterfly. The insect emitted a high pitched wail that cut through the quiet courtyard.

'Fine. Just a little bored, is all,' Jessie kept her tone casual.

Putting a pause on the butterflies, Dea offered Jessie a pack of gum. Jessie shook her head, she knew it tasted of the spiciest salsa, hot enough to sear the tips of her tongue and leave it tingling for the rest of eternity.

'Hey D,' Jessie started. Dea looked at her with her head tilted sideways in a gesture of 'go ahead'.

'Ever think what's it like back on Earth?' Jessie asked.

'Not really,' Dea shrugged. 'Why?'

Because Jessie was wondering how her Max was doing without her. Because she wanted to know how Kyle was holding up after all those pills she ate, the good stuff he had gotten for the both of them. Because she wanted to hug a puppy without Dea threatening to eat it. Because she wanted to know who the president was. Because she still wasn't used to the stench of rotten eggs. Because she was sick of being dead.

That was a lot of reasons coming from a dead girl

But Jessie just shrugged back.

'It'd be fun,' Jessie said in a small whiney voice.

'Yes, it would be,' Dea said, distracted with blowing her gum.

They sat in silence for what seemed to be eternity but only two decades have passed in real time. Dea finally ripped up the last butterfly. This one squeaked like a guinea pig before it died. Dea gave the little thing's wings a kiss before she ate the body of the insect, closing her eyes as if savoring the taste.

For the first time, the dead girl Jessie puts up both legs onto the bench, folded her arms around them to hide her face and wept.

...D.R...

AN: Like it? Pardon any mistakes, I don't have a beta. This song's barely begun . Reviews appreciated.


	2. Interlude I

Devil's Rock

Disclaimer: Don't own any of the mentioned characters and any other content featured in this fic. Some minor characters are mostly OC, mostly not.

Synopsis: The dead girl has allured many with her music. Except there's a secret ingredient to it. Isn't there always? Rated M. OC. Possible chance meeting with a certain dead wife.

AN: Slightly provocative, as this fic contains elements views of religion in general (which I do not condone nor support) . Nor will there be any form of happy endings or unicorns. Proceed at your own risk. Also contains elements from the extended universe, which is the TV show.

...D.R...

Interlude I - A place no longer home

SOMEWHERE IN PARADISE

Laura Moon had never quite believed in an afterlife. She had a brief stint with still being around despite kicking the bucket, where she mostly spent every waking hour making sure that her Shadow puppy was safe.

Now was her next step forward.

The son of a bitch Mister World almost fucked up the ecosystem. There was a balance that had to be achieved although none of the old or the new gods cared to admit. Messing with it brought a lot of trouble for the mortals. It may have even brought some kind of apocalyptic feel to the world after the hasty face off. But the whole act fell apart as soon as her Shadow found out.

In the end, all was the same for her.

Laura was dead.

This time, truly dead.

If there was a hell, Laura would have laughed aloud as if being told a hilarious joke. It felt like it had been eternity. There was nothing but her old house, the one that felt rather empty without her Shadow, or in fact anyone else, in it.

All its contents were unmoved. Every inch of it as it were before she had died. Laura felt so alone. The house serving as an empty chasm to swallow her existence whole. Yet Laura wasn't the weeping type.

Instead, she drifted.

Her hands brushing on every surface of the house. It had been surreal. That this little perfection served as both her pocket of heaven and her personal jail cell. She wondered how long until she went insane in this situation.

'Oh, puppy, at least you're okay,' she whispered to herself.

Part of her wondered where her Shadow was now. The other half wished that she didn't care for him this much.

'Dead wife,' the nothingness of the house whispered.

'What?' Laura snapped at the house, certainly losing patience with all this foreplay.

'Dead wife, the lil' crit by the window,' the whisper said. 'It wants to talk to yer'.

Laura found herself staring outside through the nearest window. There wasn't anything, just the endless fog. Endless as in it extended towards nothing. Laura found out the hard way as she had attempted to brave the surrounding fog by taking a stroll outside. No matter how far she had walled, there were only two constants. The fucking fog and this goddamned house. She wished for a sign.

'It's here,' the silence whispered.

'What-,' Laura was about to ask when what sounded like a pebble hitting the nearest window startled her.

'Filthy lil-,' the whisper cussed.

Laura tuned out the rest of the whispers, investigating the window instead. It was a bird. A raven with ebony feathers so dark that it casted a blue hue when glanced at certain angles. If Laura still breathed, she would have held her breath. But her time as a living corpse years ago meant that she had lost the habit of breathing.

The raven cawed.

'What do you want?' Laura asked, not too kindly. The bird pecked at the window's glass. Laura struggle to get the damned thing open, swearing under her breath about how close her afterlife had emulated the wrong and unimportant elements of her life. For instance, the goddamned stubborn bedroom window.

Finally getting it open, Laura found herself irritated. The whispers wouldn't shut up, the blarmy bird wouldn't stop crowing and she felt a headache forming.

'What do you want, bird?' Laura snapped.

In a reply, the raven flew at her face, knocking Laura flat on her back. She let out a surprised yell. But there were forces keeping her down. Laura did the most reasonable thing that came to mind. She laid still.

The raven spoke. In a language that didn't sound English but Laura understood it well. It was telling her a story.

Her story.

Memories clear as day. Her puppy. Sweeney. Easter. Mister World. All she had done before the accident. Her hopes, her dreams, her embaressments, her childhood. Then, lastly her fantasies. At long last, it gave her a choice.

To live again.

Something better than resurrection.

'Resurrection-,' the whispers hissed.

'What do I have to do?' she asked, struggling to keep desperation out of her voice.

'Absolutely nothing, dear child,' a voice that didn't belong to the bird said.

Still on her back, Laura twisted just a bit to glance at the dark figure. It was a man in a formal patched waistcoat, wearing a crooked tophat (which looked as if had been sat on) and in his hand, a cane with an embellished cat skull.

'Uhmm...not to be rude but- who the hell are you?' Laura asked.

The man...or maybe god laughed.

'No no child, this is hardly your fault. I am Papa Legba. It is an honor to meet you, Laura Moon,' the dark man chuckled good humoredly, revealing pearlie white canines.

...D.R...

Next: A conversation with the Devil


End file.
